TW: this story discusses multiple forms of trauma, including overdose, miscarriage, and mental health.

Misusing Substances After Pregnancy Loss

After my very first miscarriage, I tried to numb the pain with everything I could think of. My child’s father and his friends brought me bags and bags of pills. I didn’t know what they were, but I didn’t care. I just knew they would make me not feel what I was feeling. Some I swallowed and chased with alcohol, some I inhaled through my nose. At 17, I would do anything just to chase that high. When he left me 3 days later, my mom started giving me muscle relaxers. That’s how my addiction to Benzodiazepines started. 

A Near-Fatal Overdose

At 24 and multiple miscarriages later, I was working a dead end job in a factory. I was also going through some legal troubles with my family. Having my younger cousins taken away from my life because of a terrible decision — I was under the influence of drugs and alcohol. I was self medicating just to get through my long hour shifts. I couldn’t even manage to get on my feet. I was taking multiple pain meds, anxiety pills, muscle relaxers and chasing them with alcohol before my shifts. 

One particular night, I brought my cocktail of drugs with me to work and brought them inside. I remember going to the bathroom and taking more. I had taken over 30 pills as opposed to my usual 21 per night. I remember going back to my line and being fine for a little while…suddenly it hit me that I wasn’t ok. I went to the line inspector and asked her to call 911. The next thing I remember is fading in and out of consciousness and hearing my supervisors holding me on a stool. She was screaming to get help. An ambulance pulled into the factory. That’s the last thing I saw. Then I heard the EMTs were screaming “she has no pulse,” “she’s not breathing,” “there’s no heartbeat!!” I remember thinking I was talking to them and complying with their requests to squeeze her hand…I opened my eyes voluntarily, but I was wrong. I was awake and alert in my head, but to the outside world, I was already gone. The sternum rubs, the begging, the pleading for me to come back…Finally, I woke up. It was a second chance not many people could get. 

Maintaining Abstinence with the Support of My Friends

When I finally got home from the hospital, I flushed everything I had and quit pills – cold turkey. I went through the withdrawals and everything by myself. I was never offered any kind of treatment. Even when I opened up about my addiction to family, friends, and medical professionals. No one but my close friends knew I had been an addict until years later. My friends supported and encouraged me. I tried programs, I tried meetings. At the end of the day…abstinence is what works best for me.

How I Became Addicted to Opioids

It all began after high school. I moved out on my own, and the world was heavy. I was dating a guy who used to sell opioids, so I had them at hand anytime. At first, I used opioids when I really was in physical pain. Then, my boyfriend became the pain. I would take them when he hit me so I started using opioids more often. I got support when people around me started to notice my weight loss and me becoming distant.

Recovering for My Kids

My journey has been hard, but my kids make it easier. They are the reason I’m clean. I struggled with infertility for years. When I found out I was pregnant, I knew I had to fight because I had something to live for. There are hard days, but I promise they do get better. 

When I found out I was pregnant again, I wanted to breastfeed. That’s why I had to stay clean. I knew my kids deserve a chance that no one gave me.

Experiencing Opioid Addiction While Pregnant

To God be the glory.

When I got pregnant with my lil Josiah I was heavily addicted to crack cocaine and had been for over 14 years. As long as I was awake or not in jail, I was getting high or standing on the street corner, prostituting to get high. When I got pregnant, my son was living in a condemned basement and I was running a crack house. I already had a one son who I couldn’t care for, and my mom has been raising him since he was 10 months old back in Kentucky. I could not stop smoking crack when I was pregnant with my baby. Every month, I said this would be the last month. Before I knew it, I was due to give my C-section.

I couldn’t stop smoking. My baby was not born addicted. He wasn’t even positive for drugs and alcohol which should have been impossible, considering I was getting high every single day. I was clean for four years because God gave me my son in the midst of the most unlikely, unsuccessful circumstances. He just turned 6, and he’s healthy and strong. 

Rebuilding Life After Addiction Through Healing

If you told me that in less than a decade I would go from an atheist pregnant street walking prostitute who smoked crack in abandoned houses, ate out of garbage cans, and went in and out prison to a now present mother, with two honors degrees in Social Work, and a CASAC T—I would have laughed. If you told me I would get accepted into grad school, be the co-founder and leader of a faith-based 12 step recovery ministry—I would’ve said you were nuts. If you told me I’d be about to preach my first sermon as a minister, find the love of my life, and get married—I wouldn’t have believed you. But it happened 4 months ago when I became someone’s wife. We had a beautiful and elegant wedding. He knows everything about my past and loved me because of it, not in spite of. I just celebrated 6 years clean! I just started my advanced standing masters degree program, and my book is being published on my life story this week!

Rebuilding Give Recovery a Change

I attended NA meetings , rehab ,medication and therapy all at the same time, and those sources definitely calmed my mind and spirit. Yet, something was still missing. It wasn’t until I put Jesus into the equation that I got clean, stayed clean and began truly healed. Treatment treated me but He healed me!

#blacksobersocialworker